A/N: A two shot. Based on the eventual downfall of our dear, little Raoul.


Questions surfaced in her head.

Blood froze. Heart paused. Words choked. Everything melted away in the distance. As she sat, on the bed, clutching the unwelcoming sheets over her shaking body, despair ran over her like wildfire. Eyes dashed around to dismiss all her fears yet inside she knew he had left her. She had called for him, softly at first. But no reply came. She called again, countless times after and still nothing.

Left.

Immediately, tears began to slowly crawl down her face. She said nothing but couldn't press the harrowed cries that echoed within her. Echoes…

He wasn't here.

But she thought…

Memories of last night flashed in her head as she cried. Her heavily glazed eyes travelled towards the door where they had entered. Consumed.

In the corner of her eye, she saw something.

Something at the bottom of the door. Wiping her eyes and looking closer, she saw that it was a flower.

A rose.

The woman choked sorrowfully as she numbly despaired in the bed that was once theirs.


Raoul didn't understand where she was.

She had said, last night she was discomfited and wished for permission to walk. He had laughed replying that she was permitted to do what she pleased. Christine did not laugh but left him smiling. He didn't think there was anything to these night time walks of hers as firstly she did them constantly and secondly she would normally just return to bed two or three hours after. And then, the next morning, Christine would be downstairs, eating breakfast and bidding him a good morning.

Unfortunately, this time this was not the case.

He didn't think she returned to her bedroom last night. He had sensed something quite uncomforting about the morning and hence he checked on her bedroom when it was approaching dawn. What met him was an empty bed. An empty, untouched bed that did not smell of Christine's perfume but smelled of nothing. Just nothing. Raoul had screamed, alarmed of her absence and had told the house guards who were now searching for her.

They had been searching for at least a half hour yet Raoul told them specifically they were not to return till they find her. Raoul couldn't lose her. Not when it was their wedding day.

"Yes, Christine." Raoul said to himself, pacing up and down the corridor, "Did you forget that we are to be wed today?"

Tapping his foot and scratching his chin (a habitual show of nerves) Raoul could feel a sudden rush of fear in his veins. What if someone had taken her? He wasn't sure how he'd survive if something happened to Christine – no, he wouldn't survive if something happened to Christine. The love he had for her – it was unendurable.

If she was hurt – he'd never forgive himself for permitting her walk.

The very idea that he wouldn't ever hear her soft voice – the soothing tone when she said his name – her beautiful smile when he cracked a rather uninteresting joke…a sad, smile appeared as memories came flushing towards him. "Oh, Christine," He sighed poignantly, bloodshot eyes hardening, "Where have you gone?" Heaving another exhale, Raoul was disturbed by movement.

The large glass windows by the edge of her room swung open – curtains flailed against the winter wind as a silhouette appeared against the morning sunlight, forming shadows at Raoul's feet.

He broke. "Ch – Christine," He breathed, stumbling towards her, relief flooding his eyes moistening them, "My love…where have you been?" Approaching her, he became aware of a difference in her face. He knew that this was always her method of entrance, thus why he had stayed.

Every time she returned from her walk, she used the elevated platform by her balcony to climb up. Apparently, it was to save disturbance for the servants downstairs.

Raoul eyed her. She looked shaken. Her body trembled from the morning chills and the man quickly shut the window behind them. Turning back, he looked through her large, emotionless brown eyes. "Christine?" He whispered softly, concern etched on his face as her gaze dropped on him.

"Christine?" He repeated.

"Raoul." She managed. Raoul examined her – head to toe – she seemed perfectly fine. No tear. No wound. Not a scratch. Yet her face, seemed on the verge of combusting in tears. Suddenly, Raoul found himself entangled in an embrace. He caught his breath inside his throat as he quickly recoiled, wrapping his affectionate arms around Christine's trembling body.

Confused but more concerned for his fiancée's state, Raoul pressed a delicate kiss on the top of her head. "It's alright, my love," He whispered soothingly, wishing he could understand what troubled her, "Tell me…what happened?"

No answer.

"Christine, please," He said firmer in his pleading, "…tell me, why did you not return home?...did someone…" Raoul could feel his throat swelling just at the very concept but knew it was correct to propose, "…did someone intercept your journey home?"

No answer.

Holding her tighter, Raoul lowered his voice, "…Christine," He murmured, sickened and hurt, "Did someone hurt you?"

Suddenly, Christine's head lifted and Raoul found himself face to face with a paled woman. He prepared himself- prepared himself for the wrath, the anger, the idea that Christine had been damaged in any shape or form…it ached. It ached. And he could only blame himself.

However, Christine smiled. A soft, feather light smile.

His face twisted into slight confusion.

"No," She murmured, cold hand pressing against his warm cheek, "…I was just lost, in the dark. A woman pointed my path home…I seemed to have taken a wrong turning in my aimless wandering…"

Raoul felt relief flood through him. He searched in her face for any form of deception but found the tears of reprieve overwhelm him. He gently leaned forwards, letting their foreheads touch. "You worried me…" He trailed, "I thought something bad has happened." Christine laughed a croaky chuckle.

"Don't be foolish." The man smiled as Christine gently ran slender fingers through fair hair – a caress that always soothed him. She looked at him, straight in the eyes and he almost wished they could be married there and then as she uttered, "I can't miss my own wedding day." The sides of her lips twitched into another smile, "Our wedding day."

Adopting her closer to his embrace, Raoul sighed pleasantly.

"I love you, Christine. More than anything."

She continued to stare at him before sensitively lowering her hands to his chest and taking a faint step back.

"Thank you Raoul." She said simply before glancing at the door, "I think I'm just in time for breakfast."


The wedding had been wonderful.

Raoul had never felt more content. He had stood there, present with every one who he loved. Including the one he loved the most. Pressing his lips to Christine's and knowing that they would be eternally together had been the most exultant feeling. It obliterated every good memory he ever had – it was there, holding Christine's hand as people celebrated around them – it was there that Raoul knew he belonged in this life for a purpose.

To be with Christine.

The meal – the dancing – the speeches, it all meant nothing to him. Time seemed to swipe slowly in the wedding. Nothing meant anything. He had been too euphoric at his fortune. The blissful peace of knowing that he was finally happy. He had watched all the festivities, holding Christine's cold hand and giving her the occasional timely smile.

He wanted her to know how much she meant to him.

How even if it had just been her and him in the altar – it wouldn't have mattered less. As long as they were both there.

Now that, that was over – they were home. Back together at the new unnamed manor. As husband and wife. It felt…wonderful. "Thank you," He said to the coach driver, entering the manor that had been given as a gift from his family.

It was massive. Beautiful. Empty –but that was why they were there. They were meant to fill it. Raoul took a large, bountiful breath and theatrically glanced back at Christine,

"What do you think?" He asked her, eyes flaring with excitement, "Beautiful isn't it?"

It was here that he noticed the faintness on her face had returned. He wondered then if she was sick or something. "Are you alright – do you want to sit?" He asked her quickly, coming to her side and offering to hold her only to be declined.

"I'm alright Raoul," was the detached reply, "Maybe it'd be best if I gather all our things upstairs."

A blow came across Raoul's face. Disappointment filled every creak of his jovial face, "Oh…of course," He managed, unable to hide the dejection. Christine did notice and forced a smile at him, caressing his cheek but then began to ascend. He opened his mouth to ask her something, but found his words dissipating.

Something was not right.

"Upstairs please," He told the various figures appearing with their cases of belongings – eyes never leaving the landing where Christine had stood moments before. He memorized her face. Scrutinizing it, Raoul closed his eyes and lowered his head knowing he had seen something incorrect on her features. Something which shouldn't be there.

Pain.


"I think we should get chandeliers for the main entertaining rooms – and portraits…there's a local artist here that I can hire…Christine?" Raoul sat up from their bed and glanced at the woman who was staring out at their balcony. He blinked as he realized that she hadn't even been listening enough to reply to his accusation.

"Christine." He resonated astutely, this time prompting for her to turn apologetically. Christine's unaffected face glanced towards him as she attempted a faint effort to look sorry.

"Yes, Raoul. Sorry, I was distracted by the stars."

Raoul inclined his head to look through the open window and frowned.

There were no stars.

This must be sorted now. Lowering his gaze, Raoul glanced at the various belongings Christine had unpacked. And then, very slowly approached her, ending up just behind. "Christine," He called softly, hoping to break through her rather blank countenance, "…have you been made unhappy by the wedding arrangements?"

A sense desperation accompanied his tone. Christine turned towards him, a shot of shock on her faint appearance.

"No, of course not. It was perfect, dear." She answered him, fully pivoting – both of them on level field.

Raoul stayed, unimpressed but breaking apart at the disorder. She was unhappy. But why? "You have been terribly quiet the whole time, Christine," He said simply, hoping it wouldn't ignite an argument – not on their first night, "…please, tell me what is bothering you."

"Nothing is, Raoul."

"Yes there is." Raoul indicted, shaking his head to dismiss her denial. "Just tell me what it is – I shall understand –"

"Raoul, there is nothing wrong! Will you please just –" Christine's breath seemed to shorten as she lifted, glossy eyes towards him, "…I'm just tired Raoul. Please, don't begin a dispute…not on our first night."

"I'm not trying to –"

"Then stop charging me!" Christine's voice heightened to the pitch of a shout, her shoulders were shaking. Raoul felt instantly guilty, as resentment seemed to fill her tone, "Haven't I done everything you wanted already?"

Pain.

Raoul's face twisted as the words stung. Everything he wanted? Did that mean - ? His chest was heaving as Christine avoided his gaze. There was a throbbing silence until he spoke with a mere,

"Why…did you – did you not want this, Christine?" His heart was breaking inside. He could feel it – wrenching beneath his ribcage. He couldn't look at her. His mind was screaming things. Bad things.

Don't answer it, please don't.

"Of course, I do." Her voice – her calming tone returned and Raoul found his face being cupped and lifted by familiar hands, "Please understand, Raoul," Christine whispered, brown eyes softening – clearing Raoul's every doubt, "I do want this."

"I'm sorry I incited a squabble," He apologized, only be stopped by soft, affectionate lips. His words dwindled in his mind as he moved his own. The moment was cherished yet short-lived as Christine pulled away, moving a little of his hair and then smiled.

"I will just look at how the progress is going for the furniture downstairs." Raoul nodded, watching Christine as she slowly approached the door.

"I'll stay here," He called after her, lips still tingling "I'd unpack the rest of our things."


The last thing was unpacked. But that certainly didn't mean anything was neat.

Their belongings plagued the floor and their bed was barely approachable with the amount of clothing. Cross-legged on the floor, Raoul could only exhaustedly sigh. He was supposing that this was a normal thing for newly weds. A learning curve. The messy home – eventually, it'd build itself. The house would no longer be empty – it'd be colourful, beautiful, and elegant.

Everything he'd ever wanted. And he and Christine would do it together. They'd build everything up and fulfil everything they'd always said as he courted her. He promised her a home- a garden – a small, simple life in the country… children. He laughed a little, flexing his fingers thoughtfully.

This was the first step. The first step to attaining every dream they'd ever had for each other. It was all going to start today. And today, Christine and him – they'd finally be bound.

The eternal bond of marriage. Tonight. He couldn't help but pensively force the thought off his mind, deciding it was best to make sure he avoided any more unnecessary disputes. He had remembered what his sister told him – how, nerves overwhelmed brides. But soon, they shall get used to life as a wife.

And you'll be happy, Raoul. You'll the happiest man on earth.

He already was. Deciding it was best to see the goings on downstairs, Raoul propped himself up from the floor but found himself pulling the sheets on the bed instead. He chuckled a little, finding half of the possessions on the bed rolling off and collapsing on top of him.

Rummaging through and quickly trying to shove everything back onto the surface, Raoul paused as something – an object- appeared on the very top of the pile – just, for his eyes.

Emotion drained from every corner of his face as it dawned on him.

The loud thuds of his heart engulfed him as he stared, reaching out and touching it – pulling away as it became real. The nightmare became real.

Seconds went passed.

But the rose stayed.

It stayed, perfect on top of the pile. Fresh, and moist.

It stayed.

And it taunted him.


A/N: Next chapter coming shortly.